


The Way to a Man's Heart (is through his tongue)

by ricekrispyjoints



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Commitment, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, If You Squint - Freeform, Language Barrier, Language Kink, Languages and Linguistics, M/M, Post-Canon, bc this is a russian ass fic ok, but if you love language learning this may be the fic for you !, i almost tagged the duolingo owl as a character lol, the author will not apologize for being a nerd, this got a little technical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 04:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17318510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricekrispyjoints/pseuds/ricekrispyjoints
Summary: After Yuuri moves to St Petersburg, he decides that learning to speak Russian is an important step in his relationship with Viktor.Russian may be tough, but Yuuri will be tougher.Probably.





	The Way to a Man's Heart (is through his tongue)

**Author's Note:**

> i am very excited to share this fic with you all, because if there's one thing i love in this world, it's learning languages !!  
> thank you siseja for the help with Japanese language things, as well as the Norwegian OC !  
> The Russian in this fic is all my own. I speak... very basic Russian x) In the case of the non-native Russian speakers in this fic, i have decided it's more believable that they keep my mistakes because they're learners ! But if you are a native/proficient speaker of Russian and notice anything obnoxious you'd like me to fix, please feel free to leave me a comment. :)  
> I transcribed most Russian into the latin alphabet. however, i did include some cyrllic, because i wanted to give the effect of being totally lost and not understanding what was happening. (if you speak Russian, please just... suspend your disbelief lol)  
> that said, there are rough translations in the end notes if you're curious. i am.... lazy so i'm sorry they're not hyperlinked OTL maybe i'll do it tomorrow... when it's not 3h20a....  
> okay enough chatting, you came here for a fic ! please enjoy :)

During his first month in St Petersburg, Katsuki Yuuri naively thinks that he will just learn Russian through some kind of magical osmosis.

With Viktor and everyone else at the rink, he speaks in English, because they need to actually get work done, but while Viktor shows him around town or they do their shopping, Yuuri asks questions like “how do you say river in Russian?” or “what’s the word for fork?”

Viktor seems thrilled to teach him his language, though he giggles a bit at Yuuri’s pronunciation. Viktor corrects gently, but never gets upset when Yuuri still can’t get it.

(Yuuri gets him back, anyway, by making Viktor say Japanese words and teasing him for his rolled Rs and strange vowels.)

Yuuri starts a notebook to collect new words and phrases he learns, carefully writing the katakana to represent the sounds, and filling in the Japanese translation next to it.

He had had a head start in English, having learned it at school first, but this is what he did when he went to Detroit, and it was very useful.

So, he keeps his notebook, he asks Viktor for random words here and there, and he begins to learn.

 

After the first month, he starts getting impatient. He is _incredibly_ dependent on Viktor (or Yuri Plisetsky, when he can trick the teen into accompanying him) for getting around the city, for buying food, or for speaking to almost anyone.

English helps him here and there, but not as much as he’d like, since he has an accent and so do the people he speaks to. Neither party seems to have an easy time understanding the other’s pronunciation, so there’s a lot of spelling things out and it’s all very inefficient and embarrassing.

He downloads the Duolingo app, selects Russian, and gets started.

The app makes no real attempt to teach him the alphabet, so he’s mostly guessing for the written exercises and just tries to go on sounds.

Given the eyebrow-raising, mechanical intonation of the Japanese, though, he doesn’t hold out much hope that the Russian is that accurate.

Yuuri makes a transliteration chart of the Russian alphabet to katakana, though he has to consult the internet to figure out how on earth he can differentiate between _ш_ and _щ_ , because as far as he can tell, they both make a “sh” sound and there is no discernable difference.

He watches YouTube videos, trying to hear the differences, but it’s not clicking.

The R is still difficult – Yuuri feels like he has to prepare his mouth to make the sound and then it takes too long to come out – and that pesky ы vowel remains a mystery as well (the English transliteration just says the letter y, but that can’t be right, because the noise he hears for ы is like no “y” he’s ever heard).

He finds something called an IPA chart, and it shows the technical words for the different articulations, but it’s over his head. He sighs.

There are, inexplicably, three grammatical genders in Russian, and they all need different adjective forms, not to mention he has to remember to change both noun and adjective endings if something is plural, or if it’s not the subject of the sentence.

Overall, though, he thinks he’s making progress, so maybe this annoying owl is enough.

They still speak English for him at the rink.

Viktor still speaks English to him at home.

Yuri usually speaks English, but he also has a penchant for switching to Russian in the middle of the sentence when he doesn’t know how to say something—that, or to swear. Here, though, Yuuri delights in teaching Yuri Japanese swearwords, under the guise that Yakov won’t yell at him for his potty mouth so much if he doesn’t know that Yuri is swearing.

(Yuri narrows his eyes, but accepts.)

 

Yuuri is taking a break at the rink, and decides to do his five minutes on the Duolingo app.

He is sounding out a sentence when Yuri approaches him.

Steeling himself for the inevitable ridicule, he carries on.

“ _Ya nichego n_ —”

“ _Nichevo_ ,” Yuri corrects.

“But it’s a g! I _know_ this letter is a g,” Yuuri whines.

“But it’s pronounced like a v here.”

_“Why?”_

“Dunno. Probably same reason you say _wa_ when it’s clearly written as _ha_.”

“… When did you learn to read hiragana?”

“Fuck off, Katsudon.”

“Aww, Yurio, have you been learning Japanese?”

“No! Of course not. What a waste of my time. I’m never leaving Russia again.”

“You’re going to France for a competition next week,” Yuuri laughs.

“ _Urusai_!” Yuri yells.

Yuuri just laughs harder. He will absolutely not ‘shut up’.

 

Yuuri begins keeping a list of questions he comes across with the Duolingo app, or just things he’d like to say in daily life. He brings them to the rink for Yuri to check, because despite everything, he’s still bent on making it a surprise for Viktor.

A problem he did not consider, however, was that Yuri’s knowledge of his own language is not up to par with the level of questions Yuuri is asking.

 “So if I want to say, for example, ‘Viktor’s apartment’, which comes first, Viktor or apartment?”

“ _Kvartira Viktora_. Apartment first.”

“Okay, so then if I just say ‘his apartment’, why does _kvartira_ come second— _evo kvartira_?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Yurio, you’re not very good at this.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to be your fucking Russian tutor, first of all, and secondly, why would I give a shit about grammar? You do know I dropped out of high school, right?”

“I thought you were finishing it through home schooling…” Yuuri says.

“Fuck no, that’s just what I told Viktor so he wouldn’t cry about me not having a future after I retire from active skating.”

“So what _are_ you going to do after you retire? If you don’t even have a high school diploma…”

“Something in skating, obviously. Maybe by the time I’m thirty I’ll be a coach or something.”

Yuuri can’t help but laugh at the idea of Yuri coaching someone.

They would have to be very strong-willed to put up with the harsh treatment.

Suddenly, Yuuri stops laughing for a moment as a realization comes to him.

“Oh my gosh, was Yakov like you when he was young? Is this version of him mellowed out from his wild teen years?”

“I will never turn out like Yakov,” Yuri snarls. “Now, don’t you have other questions for me?”

“Fine, fine. I’m wondering about why this sentence is wrong.” Yuuri shows a screencap of a sentence he typed in Duolingo: _Ya chitaiu kniga._ I’m reading the book.

“Oh shit, this one I know. _Kniga_ should be _knigu._ ”

“Why?”

Uh… Okay, so _kniga_ is book, but only when it’s like, ‘This book is good’. But here you’re reading the book. So it changes the ending.”

“Ah, so it changes when it’s an object,” Yuuri says, making a note.

“Sure, that sounds good,” Yuri laughs. “Russian does that a lot. With names, too. Like just now, when you said Viktor’s apartment, _Viktor_ becomes _Viktora_. Because it’s his apartment.”

“This… does not happen in Japanese. Or in English.”

“No shit.”

“Russian, _why_?” Yuuri moans.

Yuri laughs so loudly that Yakov yells at them both to get back to work—first in Russian, and then in choppy English, but he gets his point across.

 

Yuuri is beginning to realize that learning Russian from a free phone app and a teenager is not going to be enough, so that evening, he looks up local Russian classes.

He’s planning on being in Russia… well, as long as Viktor will let him stay.

At least a year. Whatever he can have with Viktor, he will take, and he thinks that maybe he can show Viktor how serious he is by learning Russian for him.

This is _important_ , and he shouldn’t have been so naïve as to think that the meager attempt he was making could have been enough.

He may not ever be fluent, but he needs at least the basics: he wants to be able to do his own grocery shopping without embarrassing himself; he wants to be able to understand bus schedules and the weather report on the TV. He wants to be able to speak with his rinkmates and Yakov—although Yakov isn’t technically Yuuri’s coach, he respects the man greatly and knows that English is hard for him.

After a few minutes and getting past ads for shady looking online courses promising fluency in thirty days or other nonsense, he finds a local language center that offers Russian classes for adults, though its clear that their website is really only in Russian, and they have used Google Translate to show an English version.

The main information is clear enough, though, and he thanks his good timing as he signs himself up for a class that begins the following week.

He was a good student in high school and made respectable grades in university. Plus, he’s already learned English, which grammatically isn’t close to Japanese at all. It was a challenge, but he made it.

He can figure out Russian.

 

He can’t figure out Russian.

The instructor for the beginner’s Russian class is a short woman, probably around fifty-five or so, with short, curly grey hair, big round glasses, and a penchant for wearing denim shirts.

Her name is Anna Mikhailova, and she speaks only in Russian.

At first, this is amusing. She enters the classroom with a basket full of props, and excitedly introduces them to the class. Yuuri quickly learns the words for pencil, pen, newspaper, apple, and giraffe.

(He’s not quite sure when he will need to say the word ‘giraffe’ in Russian, but at least it’s easy.)

He knows his accent isn’t great—there are _so_ many consonants—but for the first five minutes of day one, it’s fine.

He understands quickly that the question she asks each student in turn – _shto eto?_ – must mean “what is it?”, and when she asks him _shto eto?_ And holds up the newspaper, he replies confidently, “ _eto zhurnal”_. Anna Mikhailova beams, and moves on to the next student.

They count, and he happily repeats after Anna Mikhailova the numbers one through five: _raz, dva, tri, chetyr_ _е, pyat’._

He’s feeling good.

Until, that is, she decides that the introduction is over, and she is going to just start speaking full on Russian at them. She hands out a workbook, and then writes things on the board as she speaks.

Yuuri _thought_ he could read Cyrillic, but now that he sees her handwriting, she either has the worst manuscript in the world or there are way more letters than he thought there were.

He finally figures out that they are supposed to open their workbooks to page two, so he does, and is met with a page full of Russian.

He groans as quietly as he can, and desperately tries to follow her wild gesticulations and enthusiastic efforts to make her students repeat words and phrases.

When the hour of class is up, Yuuri is feeling incredible discouraged. Did he attend the wrong class? He _thinks_ they are supposed to do the exercises for lesson one – he remembers _urok_ from Duolingo—but he has no idea how he’s supposed to complete any written exercises when he barely knows the alphabet.

He turns to the student next to him and asks in English, “This is the beginner’s class, right?”

She nods shyly. “You’re lost too?”

“Yes! At first, I thought it wasn’t so bad, and then she started talking so fast… I don’t know what happened after that.”

“We’re supposed to do lesson one, yes?”

“I think so. I can sort of read the alphabet, but…”

The instructor overhears their discussion, it seems, because she comes over.

“Нет проблем, если вы не уже знаете азбуку. Первый урок будет вас учит как читать и писать по-русски. Смотрите.” _1_

Yuuri blinks stupidly, but the teacher takes his workbook, and shows him the lesson.

She points and speaks, and Yuuri realizes that she is sounding out the letters on the page.

Yuuri begins to realize that the list is organized so that the first few only contain letters that look identical (or nearly) to Latin letters and were followed by an image confirming their meaning.

Атом

Мама

Америка

Телефон

Кафе _2_

…

Yuuri had never been so grateful to know English. The instructor continued to explain the exercises, though Yuuri was definitely not following anything she was saying.

At the very least, it looked like he could probably figure out the first couple of exercises.

She turns the page, and shows them the next exercise, which is just handwriting practice.

As though learning to read the letters wasn’t enough, apparently the way to _handwrite_ letters is not necessarily the same as they look when typeset.

Great.

(But at least this explained why he couldn’t really read what she had written on the board. Why did a т turn into an _m_ when you handwrote it? Ridiculous.)

When Anna Mikhailova stops talking she offers Yuuri a warm smile. “ _Vy kitaiets_?”

He furrows his brow.

She draws a little rectangle with stars in the corner. “ _Kitaiets_?” she asks, pointing at what Yuuri now sees is meant to be the Chinese flag.

He shakes his head, and says “ _nyet_.”

She grins, clearly glad that he’s spoken Russian, as simple a word as “no” is.

He’s pretty sure he learned how to say ‘Japanese’ from Duolingo, but before he can think of it, Anna Mikhailova has already drawing a second flag, this time with a circle in the middle.

“ _Yaponets_?” she prompts.

“ _Da_ ,” he says, nodding. “But um, _ya… govoryu po-angliiski_.” _I speak English._ (Or at least, he thinks that’s what he said.)

Yuuri is fairly certain that Anna Mikhailova’s soul ascends, listening to him speak Russian. He knows it’s terrible, he _does_ , but she doesn’t bother correcting his pronunciation like Yuri and Viktor always do. Instead, she takes this as a sign to speak _more Russian_ at him.

“Очень _horosho_ , что вы знаете несколько языков. Это поможет вам. Не сдавайся. _Rysski_ язык не трудно. Вы будете видеть." _3_

Yuuri nods, pretending that he knows what on earth she just said. He thinks he heard the word “good” and “Russian”. Otherwise, he’s lost.

Anna Mikhailova turns to the girl, and starts drawing flags trying to guess her nationality. The girl laughs awkwardly, before finally drawing her flag herself.

Yuuri doesn’t recognize the flag, but she says “Norwegian” in English.

Anna Mikhailova’s flag and English knowledge seem to come up short, because she doesn’t offer the Russian for a moment. “ _Eshcho raz, pozhaluysta_?” she asks, moving her hands in a “repeat” motion.

The girl repeats herself, and Anna Mikhailova nods in understanding. “ _Norvezhskaya_ ,” she says, pointing.

“Okay,” the girl laughs. “ _Nor_ … _norvezhskaya_.”

Anna Mikhailova thanks them and Yuuri says _spasibo_ back, because "thank you" is the only way he knows how to be polite in Russian.

(Yuri has tried to teach him ‘please,’ but it was too many syllables. He’ll come back to it.)

“That was a lot,” Yuuri says, slumping into his chair. The Norwegian girl next to him looks equally exhausted.

“I’m Ingrid,” she says, holding out her hand.

“Yuuri,” he says.

“Ah, you already have a Russian name?” Ingrid asks.

“Oh, no. Russian is _Yuri,_ ” he says with his best impression of a Russian accent. “I’m _Yuuri_ ,” he says, drawing out the vowel and making his R light and, well, Japanese.

Ingrid smiles and nods. “I don’t hear much of a difference, but I believe you.”

“It’s because I’m so bad at a Russian accent. I have a Russian friend here named Yuri, though we call him Yurio.”

“Why Yurio?”

“When he came to Japan, my sister decided two Yuuris was confusing, and named him Yurio. And it just sort of stuck.”

“You call him that even now that you’re in Russia?” Ingrid teases.

“Oh yes, though he hates it. I also make him speak English to me, because the only Japanese he knows is swearing, and well, you’ve just heard the extent of my Russian.”

“Understandable. English is nice to have as a common language, but it does make you stick out as a foreigner,” Ingrid says.

“Yes. I feel bad that my friends and coworkers have to speak English to me. That’s why I’m here,” Yuuri says. _And so I can impress my boyfriend, a little, too._ He’ll save that for later, though, he thinks.

“Same,” Ingrid says. “My job offered me a huge raise to move to St Petersburg, and they’re kind enough to pay for these Russian classes for me. But at this point, I just feel like I’ve made a huge mistake coming here.”

“Well, let’s stick together and support each other!” Yuuri says, not liking the sad tone Ingrid’s voice has taken.

“Alright. Sounds good, Yuuri.”

Yuuri is more determined than ever that he is going to learn Russian as fast as possible.

 

At the next Russian class, Yuuri tries not despair when he catches perhaps only one word out of ten. He lets out a frustrated whine when he tries to say “one pencil” and learns that there’s more than one way to say “one”: when counting, you use _raz_ , but for quantities you use _odin_ , unless it’s feminine, where you use _odna_ , or neuter where it becomes _odno_.

“ _Pochemy chetyre ‘odin’?”_ he asks Anna Mikhailova. _Why four one ?_  

Anna Mikhailova laughs. “ _Potomy shto russki yazyk!” Because that’s the Russian language!_

Yuuri plants his head on his desk.

 

 

When Yuuri isn’t at the rink, he’s immersed in his language study.

He begins spending at least an hour every night working on his Russian. He uses the Duolingo app still, if only to get that damn owl off his back, does the exercises in the workbook, only occasionally asking Yuri for help.

Viktor starts asking where Yuuri goes for two hours, three nights a week, and Yuuri says he’s just taking some time for himself.

Viktor looks a little sad at this, as though he wishes Yuuri would spend those six extra hours with _him_ , but Yuuri remains resolute that this will be a surprise for Viktor. Besides, in three months, the class will be over. There’s a more advanced class offered after, but Yuuri isn’t sure if he’s going to take it or not.

He thinks after this three-month intensive course, he’ll have made enough progress to show Viktor, and then they’ll decide together if he should keep taking the classes.

 

After two weeks of the language course, Yuuri is beginning to follow the vague idea of whatever Anna Mikhailova is telling them about.

It certainly helps that she uses a lot of gestures, images, and props to aid her students’ understanding, but Yuuri feels much less lost than he did starting out.

When she tells them to _pogovorite s partnerom,_ Yuuri knows that he must find a partner to talk to. Admittedly, he doesn’t always know what he’s meant to be _saying_ to that partner, but he’s trying.

When she asks _est’ voprosy?,_ he knows that he can ask questions, though he can’t ask very elegantly and usually just says _pochemu—_ why—and then whatever phrase she has just told them. He doesn’t always follow her explanations, but he tries.

He also practices on Yuri, to the teen’s utter disappointment.

 _“Shto ty hochesh’ na obed?_ ” he asks, three and a half weeks into his class. _What would you like for dinner?_

“Your accent is still fucking awful,” Yuri tells him. “But if you make Japanese food tonight, I’ll forgive you.”

“ _Nye katsudon_ ,” Yuuri tells him. _Not katsudon._

“ _Znayu, znayu._ _Mozhet,_ _miso_ _лососина_?” _I know, I know. Maybe miso …_

“What’s _lososina_?” Yuuri asks.

“Uh… fish. The… pink one? _Oy Viktor! Kak skazat lososina po angliiski?_ ” Yuri shouts across the rink, demanding Viktor translate.

“Salmon?” Viktor calls back, confused.

“Oh. Okay. Sure, I can make the miso salmon tonight.”

“ _Po-rysski,_ Katsudon.” _In Russian._

“ _Ya mozhno lososina gotovit’ eto vecher?”_ Yuuri tries. _I able to cook salmon this evening?_

“ _Ya mogy prigotovit’…_ you know what? Close enough.” _I can prepare…_

“Noooo, Yurio, please! Tell me what I said wrong!”

“You’ve only been learning for like two months, no one would expect you to speak it that good anyway,” Yuri gripes.

“But I’m not going to get better if I don’t learn from my mistakes!”

Yuri sighs like Yuuri has asked him to do something awful, but dutifully corrects Yuuri’s grammar. He makes his usual disclaimer that he doesn’t really know grammar – “Declensions are shit and if you talk fast enough, no one can hear them anyway”—and Yuuri promises that he’ll ask Anna Mikhailova for her feedback, too.

It all goes in the notebook.

Flipping ahead, there are only two blank pages left. Yuuri’s going to need a new notebook.

 

If Viktor notices that Yuuri is understanding more and more Russian on his own, he doesn’t comment.

After a full three weeks of the class, Yuuri can name most of the groceries on their list in Russian, and what he doesn’t know, he can read on the labels.

He can ask for simple directions and request the person to slow down or repeat what he doesn’t catch the first time.

He can tell time, and say simple phrases like “I’m at home” or “I’m at the library”. He even asked Anna Mikhailova how to say skating rink ( _katok_ _)_.

Yuuri is both pleased and annoyed that Viktor doesn’t say anything, though. On one hand, it means that it truly will be a surprise for Viktor when Yuuri finishes the class and can really wow him. But on the other, it makes Yuuri feel like Viktor isn’t paying attention to him.

They continue to speak in English at home and at the rink, though Viktor still answers questions when Yuuri asks.  

 

Surprisingly, it’s Yuri who speaks Russian with him the most. Well, it’s not surprising that Yuri prefers to speak in his native language, but he remains remarkably patient when Yuuri asks for him to articulate better or to repeat things four, five, six times.

He seems to have looked up a few grammar rules, too, because his answers become more confident when Yuuri asks why _tetrad’_  , notebook, is feminine when it doesn’t end in an а or я like most feminine nouns do.

“It’s part of the third declension noun group,” Yuri tells him confidently. “Nouns that end in _miyagki znak,_ the soft sign, are sometimes feminine. They have special rules for other case endings, too. ‘Mother’ and ‘daughter’ are both third declension nouns. And like, it’s obvious that they’re feminine. So that could help you remember?”

Yuuri is pleasantly surprised by the thorough response, but he eagerly jots down a note about third declension nouns, and thanks Yuri for his help.

(Yuuri has learned that he has to thank Yuri in a subtle way, or else he gets embarrassed and lashes out. It’s sort of adorable, in a very ‘Yuri’ way.)

 

One afternoon at the rink, Yuri mentions very casually, and in Russian, that he has been learning Kazakh from Otabek.

Yuuri takes a moment to fill in the blanks of what he didn’t quite understand, but when he figures it out, he grins.

  _“Otlichno!”_ he cries. _Amazing!_

Viktor overhears the cry of Russian, and smiles that big goofy heart-shaped smile of his.

“I love when my Yuuri speaks Russian!” he coos in English.

 _Soon, Viktor,_ Yuuri thinks. _Soon I’ll speak Russian to you as much as I can._

 

“Hey, Yurio,” Yuuri says one evening as they’re taking their skates off.

Yuri grunts in response.

“How do I say the verb meet? Like, ‘Meet me at the restaurant.’”

“ _Vstrechat’sya_ ,” Yuri says easily.

Yuuri’s jaw drops. “ _What_?”

“ _Vstrechat’sya_ ,” Yuri repeats.

“Oh my god, that’s so many consonants. How do you do that with your mouth?”

“It’s… my native language?” Yuri laughs. “Why can’t you say it?”

“Yurio, have you ever noticed that in Japanese, we almost never have more than one consonant in a row? Always consonant vowel, consonant vowel,” Yuuri explains. “When I learned English, it was one of the hardest parts of pronunciation. And now you want me to say, what, five consonants all together, with no vowels?”

“Oh my god, that’s fucking hilarious,” Yuri says. “And I think it’s only four consonants.”

“That’s three too many!” Yuuri whines.

“Oh, come on. You figured out how to say _pozhaluysta_ , you can do this.”

“This is a totally different problem from _pozhaluysta_. That was two random silent-ish letters. This is an articulation nightmare.” He sighs, rubbing his temples. “Okay, say it again? As slowly as you can.”

“How am I supposed to say 4 consonants slowly?” Yuri laughs. “ _Vstrechat’sya.”_

“ _Vustorechat’sya.”_

“Honestly? Close,” Yuri laughs. “You can do the ‘str’ from English, though, right? Like… strong.”

“But how do you add a V to that?” Yuuri complains.

“Very quickly.”

After a couple more attempts, Yuuri makes it sounds _almost_ like there are no vowels between all four sounds, and he thinks this is good enough. Thankfully, Yuri agrees.

“Ok, so how do I conjugate it now?” Yuuri asks.

“Actually, you don’t have to. You want to tell someone to meet you at a restaurant, you can just use _davai_ before it. Like ‘let’s meet at the restaurant.’ No conjugation necessary.”

“Oh thank _fuck_.”

 

Yuuri and Ingrid become good friends over the course of the first month of their Russian classes. They meet up – _vstrechat’sya,_ Yuuri thinks triumphantly – about once a week to practice, to ask each other questions, and maybe a little bit to complain.

They share stories of culture shock, of language struggles and triumphs, and it’s been a long time since Yuuri has made a friend in such a low stress environment.

In the skating world, he always feels like he’s on guard with new people: they’re his competitors, his coaches, journalists, or fans. Always ready to judge him – or at least, that’s how it feels—but now with Ingrid, he can relax and just be her friend.

They call their sessions _uchebnaya vechernika—_ a probably grammatically incorrect way to say ‘study party’. They meet at a café, a bar, a restaurant, anywhere they can relax, go over their homework briefly, but otherwise just chat in mostly English with as much Russian as they can sprinkled in.

Ingrid impresses Yuuri with her ability to codeswitch. She speaks in English, but throws in a Russian noun, and somehow remembers to decline it as if it were in a Russian sentence. She sometimes uses English verb stems and throws Russian conjugations on the ending. When she tells Yuuri, “ _ya research-ayu_ ” to mean “I research”, he laughs until there are tears in his eyes.

“I don’t know the Russian verb, alright?” she defends, but she’s laughing too.

They look it up in a dictionary but decide it’s not that important after all. _Issledovat’?_ Something like that. Not important.

“I’ve been wondering, would you say something in Norwegian?” Yuuri asks. “You mention words here or there, and it just sounds really pretty.”

“Aww, thanks. I like the way Japanese sounds, too. Russian is kind of growing on me, too, in its own way. But what do you want me to say?”

“Anything you like.”

She thinks for a moment, and then a devilish kind of grin spreads across her face. “ _Eg har klina med ein skallamann_.”

“That’s so cool, it’s… the intonation sounds like you’re almost singing,” he says. “So pretty.”

“I just said ‘I made out with a bald man.’”

Yuuri bursts into giggles. “Why would you say _that_ sentence, of all things?”

“It’s from a song. Or like, a mini-film. That’s it, we’re watching Skallamann.”

She pulls out her headphones, hands one to Yuuri, and pulls up [a YouTube video](https://youtu.be/d7BKg31Ym5o).

Twelve minutes later, Yuuri is deeply confused as to what he just watched, but he already knows that the song is going to be stuck in his head for days.

“Well then,” he says, and Ingrid grins.

“Right?” she says, giddily.

“… Teach me how to say it.”

 

 

After two months of their class, Ingrid shares that her job is going much better than it did upon her arrival.

“I was really doubting my decision to come here,” she admits, taking a sip of her whiskey. “I didn’t have any strings keeping me in Norway, and I’m from Møre og Romsdal, on the southwest coast. Beautiful. Very fjord-y. Maybe the fjord-iest part of Norway.”

Yuuri laughs. “I don’t think that’s a word.”

“Sure it is. Shut up. Anyway, it’s gorgeous, but job opportunities aren’t always booming. Ålesund is the biggest city, but it’s… small. Barely a city, especially compared to St Petersburg. When my office told me about the opening here I knew it was my chance to get out, if only for a while. This position is only contracted for two years, though I might be able to re-negotiate.”

“That’s really amazing,” Yuuri says. “Do you think you’ll want to stay?”

“Maybe,” she says. “It’s gotten a lot better than it was in the beginning. I’m making friends, I don’t feel so isolated. And I love living in such a big city.”

“I grew up in a small resort town in Japan, and then lived in Detroit in America for a bit. St Petersburg is probably bigger, though.”

“Pretty sure, yeah,” she smiles. “So I know you like to keep private, and that’s fine, but I still don’t really know why you came to Russia.”

“Ah,” he says, laughing a little. “It’s a bit of a complicated story.”

“ _U menya mnogo vremya_ ,” Ingrid says, raising an eyebrow. _I’ve got a lot of time._

“Well, for … work, a colleague became… a mentor? And he came to Japan for a while to work with me, but then he needed to come back to Russia. Except I still very much wanted to work with him. And I decided that it was maybe my turn to visit.

“So we talked about it, and he agreed to uh, keep mentoring me. Here, in Russia. I don’t need Russian for work, exactly. Everyone else at the ri—everyone speaks English, more or less. But I want to learn Russian to fit in, and to show him that I’m serious.”

Ingrid is trying very hard not to demand answers; Yuuri can see it in the way she holds her shoulders back, swallows deliberately before she speaks again.

“Serious about what, Yuuri? If you don’t need it for work, then why does Russian show that you’re serious?”

“I mean serious about staying here. With him. I thought maybe if I learned Russian, he would let me stay longer.”

“I don’t want to make any assumptions, here, but is your relationship with this mentor… perhaps not strictly professional?” Ingrid asks, raising a brow.

“Ah, well… I suppose?”

“Yuuri. Details. Now,” Ingrid insists, leaning forward in her seat with a wolfish grin. “Are you like, hooking up with your boss? Are you living the juiciest gossip story of our times?”

“No! No, nothing like that. I mean he’s not really my boss. He’s my… mentor? Ah, this is hard to talk about without just telling you everything…”

“Hey, no pressure,” Ingrid says. “I’m curious, but not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s… we’re friends now. I feel like I can tell you. It’s just maybe a bit awkward?” Yuuri hedges.

“Well, I’m happy to listen to whatever you’re willing to tell me, because you have absolutely piqued my curiosity.”

With a deep breath, Yuuri tries to decide where to start his story.

“I’m a figure skater,” he says.

“As in, professionally?”

“Yes. And when I say mentor, I mean former-competitor-turned-coach, who is now also competing again. He uh, took a year off. To coach me. But now he’s competing again. And also coaching me.”

“Is that allowed?” Ingrid laughs.

“Yes, actually, though it’s a bit unprecedented.”

“I can imagine. So you moved to Russia to keep him as your coach?”

“Last year, he came to Japan to coach me. He sort of ran off on his own coach, and on Yurio…it was all highly unorthodox. At the end of last season, He decided to return to competition, and while I had considered retiring, I decided to stay in competition at least one more year. To compete against him.

“But he needed to be with his coach after a year off of competing, and so I moved here. And I guess I’m hoping that if I learn Russian for him, he’ll let me stay. He won’t … leave me.”

“Leave you as your coach or leave _you_?” Ingrid asks softly. Over the noise of the bar, he barely hears the question.

“Both?” Yuuri grimaces. “I mean, I know he cares about me, but… I’m worried that this won’t—can’t—last. So I have to do something else. To convince him to let me stay by his side.”

“By his side… because you’re dating?”

Yuuri flushes. “Um… yes? I mean, I think so.”

“You don’t _know_ if you’re dating?”

“Well, yes. I guess we are. We are.” He fidgets with the ring on his finger. Ingrid catches the motion and looks at him suspiciously. He hides his hands under the table.

“Okay, let me get this straight. He moved to Japan to coach you. You two are dating. You moved to Russia to be with him—yes professionally, but also because you’re dating. Right so far?”

“Yes.”

“And that ring on your hand you suddenly don’t want me to see, is that from him?”

“Ah, that’s um, not what you think. Or, well, it’s… complicated.”

Ingrid sighs, takes a long swig of her whiskey, and then looks at Yuuri very seriously.

“Yuuri. You’re my friend. And I mean this in the nicest way possible. But you are dating this man. Possibly engaged? To this man. And you think he would, what, break up with you and make you go back to Japan if you don’t learn Russian?”

“Not exactly?” Yuuri says. “Look, I know a lot of this is based on my own insecurities. But I think that learning Russian is a good way to show him that I’m serious about… us. That I’m willing to put in the effort to learn the language because I _want_ to stay here. I want to be with him, and learning Russian means that I’m looking towards the future.”

“Alright, when you put it like that, it sounds a little less pathetic. Maybe lead with that, yeah? I was getting really worried about you there.”

“I’m sorry!” Yuuri exclaims.

“No need to apologize, Yuuri,” Ingrid says kindly. “Now, do I get to see a picture of this guy or what? And what’s his name?”

Yuuri blushes. “Let me find a good photo for you. He sends me so many selfies but they’re very goofy, most of the time. Or poorly framed. For as many photos as he takes, he’s not very good at them.”

Ingrid laughs, but stops abruptly when Yuuri holds up his phone with a photo. “His name is Viktor,” he says.

“Shut up, he’s so pretty,” she all but yells, earning the confused glares of several nearby patrons.

Yuuri flicks through a couple other photos until he finds one of him, Viktor, and Makkachin. She coos appreciatively over the dog, and then over how cute Yuuri and Viktor look together.

While they’re looking at pictures, he decides to show her Yuri, too. “He thinks he’s so tough, so whenever he knows you’re taking his photo, he pulls this face. But really, he’s a sweet kid. He’s been helping me a lot with my Russian, and sometimes I get to teach him a little Japanese, too.”

“Aww, that’s sweet. How old is he?”

“Sixteen, now. He’s also a professional skater. He beat me last year in the Grand Prix Final. It was close, but…”

“That’s crazy. He’s so young! But I guess that could be an advantage, in some sports.”

“Yeah. It is. Strong legs, flexible, less wear on your joints… Skating is tough on us old folks.”

“Yuuri, you are not old.”

“For a skater I am!” he laughs. “Really kills the self-esteem.”

“Alright, fine.”

They wrap up their “study party”, as side-tracked as it had gotten, and pay their bill.

“Yuuri, I want to thank you. For opening up, I guess. I know you’re pretty private, but it was nice to hear more about you, you know?” Ingrid says warmly.

“Ah, I just don’t like the attention, I guess… but I really enjoy talking with you. You’re basically my only non-skating friend,” Yuuri laughs self-depreciatively.  

“For whatever it’s worth, I think you and Viktor are gonna be just fine. He’s gonna love hearing your progress in Russian, but it sounds like he’d love you either way.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell myself,” Yuuri says. “I really hope you’re right.”

 

Anna Mikhailova gives an impassioned speech on the last day of class about how proud she is of all of her students, how much they’ve all improved, and what a pleasure it has been for her to share her language and culture with all of them.

Yuuri is pretty proud of himself, too, since he actually understands most of what she says.

She speaks to them slowly and carefully, mindful of their level, but the fact that he’s comprehending full sentences after just three months is pretty impressive. It took him at least a year of serious studying to get this proficient in English.

Perhaps that was just because he was only a high schooler, and it wasn’t immersion… But no; Yuuri is going to let himself be proud of himself for this accomplishment.

And he knows that Viktor is going to be absolutely floored by his progress.

It’s been difficult to hide from Viktor just how much Russian he’s learned, but Yuuri knows that there’s a huge difference between understanding and speaking, so he thinks that his big reveal will still be impressive.

Yuuri and Ingrid go out for a drink after class to celebrate.

They go into their favorite bar, and find a couple of seats near the window so they can people watch while they chat.

Yuuri is about to go order a second drink at the bar when a familiar head of silver hair catches his eye.

“Viktor?” he says aloud, but mostly to himself.

Viktor looks up and through the window, makes eye contact with Yuuri, who is staring at him.

A huge, heart-shaped grin breaks across his face at seeing Yuuri. His mouth form’s Yuuri’s name – long and drawn out, like _Yuuuuuuuuri!_

He then backtracks to the entrance to the bar, and steps inside.

“Yuuri!” Viktor exclaims happily. “What are you doing here?”

“Viktor!” Yuuri says, and while he’s happy to see his boyfriend, he’s caught off guard. At least Ingrid knows that his Russian class is supposed to be a secret from Viktor, still.

“I’m here with a friend,” Yuuri says, and gestures to Ingrid.

“Hi, Viktor, I’m Ingrid,” she says. “Yuuri has told me so much about you!”

“Oh, only good things I hope! Nice to meet you, Ingrid. How do you know my Yuuri?” Viktor asks.

Ingrid balks, looking to Yuuri for help.

“We practice our English together,” Yuuri says. It’s not exactly a lie, though it does mostly avoid the original question.

“But you already speak English…” Viktor says, confused.

“Yes, but it’s hard to find other advanced English speakers when you’re abroad,” Ingrid supplies.

“Yuuri speaks English all the time though!” Viktor smiles.

Yuuri takes a deep breath and prays for the patience that he doesn’t have, and opts to change the subject.

He was planning on showing off his skills to Viktor tomorrow night over dinner, not in a noisy, public bar.  

“Viktor, aren’t you cooking dinner for Yurio tonight?” Yuuri asks sweetly.

Viktor furrows his brow. “Yurio really needs to learn to provide for himself.”

“He’s only sixteen,” Yuuri says gently. “I know you were all independent by the time you hit the Seniors, but Yurio isn’t you. And you promised him, didn’t you?”

Viktor sighs heavily. “I did. I was on my way to the grocery store when I saw you, actually.”

“Okay, well, you go get the groceries and have a nice dinner with Yurio, and when I get home, I’ll tell you all about how Ingrid and I became friends, alright?”

“Oh, alright.” Viktor drops a kiss in Yuuri’s hair and gives him a brief hug. “Don’t stay out too long! I know my Yuuri doesn’t hold his alcohol well.”

“Viktor, please don’t—”

“Say, Ingrid, has Yuuri told you about the Sochi banquet yet?” Viktor teases. “That’s the story of how _we_ met.”

Ingrid perks up with interest, eyes bright with interest. “Oh, _please_ tell me about the Sochi banquet.”

“ _Viktor,”_ Yuuri hisses.

“Oh, fine,” Viktor says, but he turns to Ingrid. “If we meet again, I’ll be sure to tell you. I have _photos_.”

“Viktor!” Yuuri cries, and Ingrid practically cackles with glee.

“I can’t wait,” she grins.

“Bye, my love! See you soon!” Viktor says with a wink, blowing a kiss over his shoulder as he glides out of the bar.

“So, Yuuri,” Ingrid says meaningfully. “What happened in Sochi?”

“I’m getting another drink.”

 

Yuuri does only have that second drink, and he heads home an hour later barely buzzed.

Ingrid is going to take the next Russian class, and Yuuri wants to discuss it with Viktor, but thinks he probably will, too. Even if he doesn’t, he and Ingrid have promised to stay in touch and keep up their study parties.

When he enters the apartment, it smells lemony, so Yuuri guesses that Viktor made some sort of fish for dinner.

(He loves Viktor, but the man’s culinary abilities are rather limited to only a handful of healthy but boring recipes that all taste more or less the same.)

When he calls out to say he’s home, Viktor appears from the kitchen, still wearing an apron, hands covered in soap suds.

“Are you hungry, Yuuri?” he asks.

“No, I had food at the bar,” Yuuri says. “Yurio is supposed to wash the dishes when we cook for him. You know that’s part of the deal.”

“He sprained his thumb today,” Viktor pouts. “Doctor gave him a splint and everything.”

“Oh no! How did that happen?”

“Missed a quad and put his hand down to break his fall like an amateur.”

“Was he distracted or something?” Yuuri presses.

“He wouldn’t talk to me about it,” Viktor whines.

Yuuri sighs. “I’ll see if he’ll tell me, or maybe Otabek or Mila.”

“Thanks, Yuuri.” Viktor returns to the kitchen to finish the dishes. Yuuri follows him in and sets to drying the dishes in the rack.

“So, tell me about Ingrid!” Viktor chirps happily. “I had no idea you were out making friends in the city.”

“We met in a language class, actually,” Yuuri says. He had planned to make his big speech tomorrow, but after talking it over with Ingrid, decided that tonight was fine, too. In fact, it seems almost sweet, in this domestic scene.

“You don’t really need more English classes, Yuuri,” Viktor teases. “You have a degree from an American university.”

“It wasn’t an English class,” Yuuri says in Russian.

Viktor jolts and stares at him with a look of pure surprise that quickly melts into a sort of astonished happiness.

“I thought that learning Russian was important, if I will stay in Russia a long time with you,” Yuuri says, continuing in Russian. He’s practiced this speech, but now he’s nervous about it. He’s sure he’s making some mistakes, but he’s only been here for five months, so he tries to remind himself that he’s doing fine. “Viktor, you are for me very important, and I am so happy together. Here, in Russia, I like this life with you. And I want to stay with you forever, and I learned Russian to show you that I am committed. To us.”

He swallows hard, bracing himself on the counter top a bit and staring resolutely at the towel in his hands, and says something he has never told anyone in his life, in any language. “ _Ya tebya lyublyu, Viktor.” I love you._

Viktor gasps quietly, and when Yuuri dares to look up at his face, he sees that Viktor is crying a little bit.

“Yuuri!” he cries, and throws his wet, soapy hands around Yuuri in a fierce embrace. He pulls back to look Yuuri in the face, as though he can’t believe his ears.

“ _Ya tozhe! Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu!”_ _Me too! I love you too!_

Viktor kisses Yuuri deeply, and though Yuuri startles at the force of it, he forces himself to relax into it.

Just as he settles in, thought, Viktor pulls back. “I can’t believe you learned so much,” he gushes in Russian. “Your accent even sounds good! It makes me so happy to hear that you learned so much…”

His voice sounds thick, like he might start crying. He’s speaking a little quicker than Yuuri can follow, but he catches the important parts.

“Why did you keep it a secret, though?”

“I wanted a surprise for you,” Yuuri smiles. “It helped me to learn alone, I think. Because I…”

He furrows his brow and decides he doesn’t know how to say this in Russian, so he switches back to English. “I wanted to prove to myself that I could belong with you, by your side. I know that learning Russian doesn’t really mean that I deserve this more, but I think in my head, it was a way to create something tangible, to show myself that I deserve this. That I earned this, through my hard work and dedication to our relationship.”

“Yuuri, I—I don’t know what to say, except that you continue to impress me every single day,” Viktor says, and Yuuri can practically feel the love radiating off of him. “You make my Japanese look so bad, now! I’m going to have to start studying again, aren’t I?”

“Let’s make a trade,” Yuuri grins. “My native language for yours.”

“And my heart for yours,” Viktor insists.

Yuuri blushes. Viktor has always been more open with his affection than Yuuri, and even after all this time, being the direct recipient of it is, at times, overwhelming.

Not that Yuuri would ever ask Viktor to stop.

He wants this for as long as possible.

“ _Ya solglasen.”_

_I accept._

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> 1\. It's not a problem if you don't know the alphabet. The first lesson will teach you how to read and write in Russian. Look.  
> 2\. Atom, mama, America, telephone, café  
> 3\. It's very good that you know other languages. That will help you. Don't worry. Russian isn't difficult. You'll see.
> 
> Also, [here's the Skallamann video again ](https://youtu.be/d7BKg31Ym5o) because it is pretty much the only Norwegian I know (besides "thank you" and "roof") and I can't stop thinking about Yuuri saying "I made out with a bald man" to tease Viktor about his bald spot.
> 
> anyway, I'm a sap, спаибо for reading, kudos and comments water my crops and clear my skin
> 
> come find me on tumblr as ricekrispyjoints, if you're into that kind of thing, let's talk about language learning :')


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